


Let’s Dance (Under the Moonlight)

by seidrade



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics)
Genre: 80s Power Ballads, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And also a real Dirty Bird, AoA Loki - Freeform, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Dirty Talk, Dubcon/Noncon Fantasy, Everything is consensual, Holidays, Humiliation kink, Kinda, Large Cock, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Public Masturbation, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Dancing, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thorki Secret Santa 2018, Voyeurism, agent of asgard, bratty bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seidrade/pseuds/seidrade
Summary: “Whereas you, little brother— you’re slim and svelte as an eel,” Thor teases right back, tickling his ribs. “And just as slippery.”“Eep!” Loki giggles helplessly as he instinctively arcs and spins away from the minor torture, though this only ends up pressing him right against the massive, warm, entirely too-touchable wall of muscle that is Thor. “M’not slippery, you’re just fighting dirty!”Thor gives a brief laugh, clearly delighted at being able to provoke him. He leans in, murmuring into Loki’s hair, ”And that’s usually your job, is it? Being the dirty one?”Loki inhales sharply.“Exactly.”





	Let’s Dance (Under the Moonlight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [D1ona30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D1ona30/gifts).



> For iwillscreamuntilearsbleed / D1ona30 as part of the Thorki Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2018, organized by the wonderful ktspree13. I couldn’t resist combining multiple prompts: Bottom Loki, size kink, and slow dancing. (My first time doing AOA!Thorki— all mistakes are mine alone.) I hope you enjoy reading it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Merry Thorki!

_Because my love for you_  
_Would break my heart in two_  
_If you should fall into my arms_  
_And tremble like a flower_  
_xx_  


  


Loki is pretty sure that as a general rule, holiday parties are very much his thing.

He quite likes the idea of everyone getting drunk together and making fools of themselves while pretending to have a good time until, despite their best efforts, some of them actually do. The unexpected potential for human drama, combined with a hefty dose of holiday magic— a miasma of the sinister and saccharine and genuinely heartwarming— makes for a particularly ingenious flavor of chaos that Loki finds himself helpless to resist.

And so far, this swanky Avengers shindig has been a most noteworthy spectacle. There’s already been a drunken arm wrestling tournament (which Thor easily won); two separate incidents of the spider kid climbing the tree; an alcoholic pudding fire which halfway smoked out the room before anyone noticed; one near-behanding while opening a bottle of champagne because _some_ people don’t know how to handle a sabre correctly, Steve Rogers; a literal pie to the face; a fist fight; a tickle fight; an accidental tasing; several purposeful tazings, because anything can become a friendly competition in this crowd; plus, three different people bursting into tears for entirely unrelated reasons. And Loki’s only to blame for the pudding. Honest.

Strange to say, but he almost feels at home here, in this rowdy gang of super-powered, bickering idiots. Almost.

Loki’s not a fool— he knows they all certainly hold various degrees of loathing for him. But despite their quabbles, the Avengers and their cronies all quite like each other. And they quite obviously love Thor, who just so happens to absolutely adore Loki — making for a perfectly tenuous dynamic from which Loki can derive unholy amounts of glee. 

All in all, it’s been a great evening, and it just keeps getting better: Stark’s AI has eschewed the usual holiday fare in favor of spinning some classic 1980s hits. Having recently binged all the John Hughes films and subscribed to several This Is New Wave playlists on Spotify, Loki is over the moon to hear a slew of his new favorite tracks.

Unsurprisingly, he’s the one who drags Thor to the dance floor after their second cups of punch (spiked with the contents of Thor’s hip flask, naturally) and they’ve been cutting all kinds of rugs, inspiring dirty looks — of jealousy, no doubt— from everyone in the vicinity, save perhaps Tony Stark himself, who seems to find Loki entertaining if not concerning.

Thor’s just requested Jarvis play “Take On Me” (he’s been obsessed with a-ha ever since Loki forced him to watch the music video) and they’ve been bopping about wildly, singing along to the best of their terrible abilities, ensuring most everyone is giving them a wide berth. Yes, the situation definitely reeks of jealousy.

The song eventually shifts to one Loki recognizes from the opening synth strains— Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.” A slow jam, as the kids say.

“Aaand that sound means it’s time to avail ourselves of more punch!” Loki gives a teasing jab to Thor’s immovable bicep as he takes a step back. “I’ll grab you another cup.” 

Normally he wouldn’t be quite so helpful, but Loki has never been one to miss an opportunity to bespell Thor’s drink— now, whether to make him squawk or croak or chitter for the next half hour? Perhaps a combination of all three...

But Thor’s hand shoots out and encircles his wrist, catching him off-guard, and Loki finds himself being reeled back in with little choice in the matter. 

“What, my little brother is suddenly too proud to slow dance with me?” Thor laughs, pulling him closer. “Believe it or not, we used to dance with each other at court when we were young and there were no other children about. Mother found it very amusing.”

Loki scoffs, tries to keep himself from shivering too noticeably when Thor wraps one hand around his waist and holds Loki’s hand aloft with the other. He imagines Thor could easily wreath his stomach with both massive paws, which naturally makes him think of other rather inappropriate applications for such appendages. Serves him right for indulging in Thor’s Asgardian special reserve… 1854 was clearly one hell of a horny vintage.

“Ah, let me guess— you were terrible at waltzing,” Loki feigns ignorance, letting Thor sway them back and forth. “The mighty Thor, unable to count in threes.”

Thor gives a great laugh at that, spinning them slowly to the verse. He would be enjoying this, the great sentimental lug. 

“Actually, I was quite good with the waltz. But I won’t pretend I was half as good as you. Dancing was ever your forte.” He pauses, contemplating. “I wonder if you’re still as graceful...”

A small cheeky grin is all the warning Loki gets before Thor dramatically spins him, not especially in time, and then dips him low as the music starts to gain momentum. Loki can’t help a little shriek of laughter, clutching at Thor’s massive, solid bicep. 

“That’s not a waltz, you oaf!” He’s giggling as all the blood rushes to his head. But despite his protest, Loki points his toe for extra flourish, tips his head back, thrilling at how he can quite literally touch his horns to the floor without any worry of Thor dropping him. 

Thor is beaming as he pulls Loki out of the dip, bringing them closer than before as the chorus begins to wash over them. Their new proximity ensures that Loki receives a faceful of Thor’s sculpted pectorals. When he looks up towards Thor’s grinning face, he feels very much a flushed, swooning maiden at her first court dance.

Which, Loki supposes, he might as well be. 

He turns to look at their outstretched hands. At Thor’s large, square fingers so delicately holding his own slender, black-varnished ones. Even in the smallest detail, the contrast between them is ever so wildly evident. It sends a little thrill through him. 

“I’m glad you’re here, brother,” Thor murmurs, more to the top of Loki’s head than anything. “The thought of celebrating Jól without you seemed dreary indeed. I didn’t know if you would hesitate to socialize with my companions, but they seem to be growing accustomed to your presence. In time, I think you all could grow to enjoy each other’s company.”

Loki tries not to laugh outright in his face— even now he can see Clint Barton’s suspicious glare through a filter of party-goers and a potted _Monstera deliciosa_. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. These short-lived mortals have surprisingly long memories.” But he softens his words with a cheerful grin and a wink. “Still, they tolerate you and your terrifying appetites, so they can’t be all that discerning. I’m sure I could win them over with brunch and mimosas tomorrow. Or maybe just some aspirin, come to think of it.”

Thor looks down at him almost curiously. His hand on Loki’s waist feels like a brand.

“You think my appetites are terrifying, do you?” He’s grinning, but he doesn’t sound like he’s joking. There’s something strangely intense in his gaze.

Loki’s brain glitches. Instead of launching a flippant reply, he’s suddenly thinking of what it must take to power all that Asgardian muscle and sinew. All that strength. And then his thoughts drift to other kinds of appetite. 

_Whoa, Loki. Cool it._

“I mean, you’re a bit terrifying overall,” he recovers. “Even amongst a group of superheroes, you have to admit— you’re a bit extra. And you really shouldn’t arm wrestle the poor things, your bicep is bigger than Cap’s head.” 

“Whereas you, little brother— you’re slim and svelte as an eel,” Thor teases right back, tickling his ribs. “And just as slippery.”

“Eep!” Loki giggles helplessly as he instinctively arcs and spins away from the minor torture, though this only ends up pressing him right against the massive, warm, entirely too-touchable wall of muscle that is Thor. “M’not slippery, you’re just fighting dirty!” 

He manages to twist away after a moment, though the cage of Thor’s arms doesn’t allow him to go far. If he really wanted to break free, he could in an instant, and Thor knows it, but so rarely does he have an excuse to touch his brother this much. To be the sole focus of his attention. No, he’s not going anywhere just yet. Even if he has to endure this unapologetic sadism.

Thor gives a brief laugh, clearly delighted at being able to provoke him. He leans in, murmuring into Loki’s hair, ”And that’s usually your job, is it? Being the dirty one?”

Loki inhales sharply. “Exactly.”

Thor hums to himself, having gone back to idly shuffling them round in a circle. “But you’ve been doing so very well, Loki. So many generous deeds and noble errands. Shouldn’t I pick up the slack?” He grins down at Loki. “Surely we can’t both fight honorably. I think the very balance of the universe would tilt askew.” As if to punctuate his words, Thor gives him an unexpected spin, the force of his grip such that Loki simply has to follow.

He has to admit, he does love it when Thor shows his snarky side. When he gives Loki a shit-eating grin and teases him in a low, conspiratory tone. To see that echo of his own humor on his brother’s golden face is something powerfully exciting. The manhandling doesn't hurt, either.

“You really want to do the dirty work?” Loki picks up where Thor left off, once they’re facing each other again. “And you’d leave me to be the golden boy? Please, be my guest— I’d love nothing more than to let you run errands for the All-mother while I laze around and occasionally post gym selfies for my legions of adoring fans.” He pauses, squinting. “Though I guess that’d mean I’d actually have to go to the gym...”

It might be wishful thinking, but Loki swears there’s something wolfish in Thor’s answering grin. Maybe because Loki’s just somewhat outed himself as a connoisseur of said gym selfies. There’s definitely a little gleam in Thor’s eye as the final chorus hits and he dips Loki once more. This time, neither of them are giggling.

“Perhaps we can share the burden between ourselves,” Thor suggests, before pulling Loki up and straight into a spin. He’s surprised when Thor reels him back in and catches him so his back is to Thor’s chest and those large arms are crossing Loki’s front. Thor dips his head down, enough to murmur into Loki’s ear, then adds, “you shouldn’t have to be a good boy all the time.” 

His voice is light and he quickly releases Loki back into closed position as if nothing was amiss— though if anyone else had said those words to him, Loki would swear they were putting the moves on him.

 _What the Hel_ , Loki wants to say, but doesn’t. _How very damn dare you_. He gulps, suddenly aware of how little his breeches would do to conceal an inconvenient, brother-related erection. The large hand at the small of Loki’s back seems to burn ever hotter as they sway, and he’s about ten seconds away from just rubbing himself on Thor’s thigh and yowling like a cat in heat.

Thankfully, because Loki is nothing if not a lucky fucker, Cyndi Lauper finally crossfades into something a bit more upbeat. Oingo Boingo, if Loki had to make a guess. Slowdance officially over. 

Loki almost sighs in relief, plastering on a cheerful grin and ducking out from under Thor’s arms. He just barely resists the urge to step on Steve Roger’s foot— half out of sexual frustration, half as punishment for edging too close in an obvious attempt to eavesdrop.

“More punch,” he says to Thor, emphatically, before disappearing. Literally. He’s got an amulet.

And it’s not a moment too soon, for Loki can feel his cock swelling in his breeches at the thought of Thor spanking him and calling him a bad boy— or maybe a good boy, he isn’t picky. Shit.

At any rate, he needs to get away and take a breather, long enough to try and forget the feeling of Thor’s hand on his waist. Because he’s not supposed to know about that stuff, from before. What Thor and the older Loki used to do when they could steal time away from prying eyes. Not him, no. Innocent little babe, he’s supposed to be. 

It’s times like this he really thinks the older Loki made a stupid call, letting him retain any memories. Why torture his future self in the most self-sabotaging move possible? Oh, just for giggles, one would suppose… god, has there ever been a Loki who wasn’t a complete idiot? And wasn’t completely besotted with Thor? Unlikely.

He nearly bypasses the punch table, then thinks better of it and quickly pours and drains one of the faux-crystalline goblets. Banner walks up just then, on a punch-finding mission of his own. He does a double take at the floating glass, then edges away. Unbothered, Loki discards his goblet on the table and makes for the empty hallway, needing just a brief moment to collect himself. 

He feels stifled in his own skin— just wants to go back in there and absolutely maul Thor until all he’s wearing are fresh, pink scratch-marks and a smile. A dastardly attack of the kind his Avengers won’t be anticipating. (Well, who’s to say— they do expect the worst of him.) 

Yes, imagine Thor picking him up and taking him right there on the dance floor. Just wrapping his legs around Thor’s waist and letting his oh-so-fuckable behemoth of a brother do the lion’s share of the work. God, with this invisibility cloaking, they could fuck just about anywhere... 

Loki gives a soft moan under his breath, unable resist sliding his hand down to cup his excitable dick. He’s meant to be cooling down, but maybe a quick wank will settle him enough to get through the rest of the night. 

He can hear other party-goers further down the hall— mostly female voices, flitting to and from the restroom, but Loki is undeterred. He’s got an amulet. 

So he leans against the wall, slips his cool hand into his breeches and curls it around himself, biting down on his lip as he thinks of Thor calling him slim and svelte and slippery. Saying he was dirty and good all in the same breath. How dare he know all of Loki’s weakest points and press upon them so casually? He exhales through his nose, one hand cupping his balls and the other quickly working at his dick.

And then Thor enters the hallway, looking about, and Loki tenses, though he doesn’t stop stroking himself because Norns, look at him, that utter golden beast of a man, his sleeveless regalia so perfectly tight across the chest, and those arms… oh, those arms that could so easily crush him. He lets his eyes roam freely over Thor’s body, feeling emboldened in his invisibility.

Ah, shit, he’s coming closer.

Loki bites down on his lip as Thor walks up, stopping a few feet shy of him. Loki holds his breath, trying to move his hand slowly enough that no sound will reach Thor’s keen ears. His brother turns and glances about slowly, as if puzzled, and then his gaze lands directly on Loki.

Loki freezes, not daring to breathe, reminding himself frantically that Thor can’t see him, Thor can’t see him, Thor can’t—

“You know I can see you, right?”

Loki squawks.

“I— what?!”

Thor just smirks at him, pulling up a chain from beneath the v-neck of his tunic. There is a little gem on the end that Loki instantly recognizes. Damn it, Amora, you double-crossing little—

“You’re not the only one with an amulet,” Thor’s smirk turns into a full toothy grin as he tucks it away once more. “I only ever meant to catch you sneaking to and from the compound. This is just a bonus.” He glances down, meaningfully. “Is that for me?”

Loki makes a strangled noise, trying to tuck himself back into his breeches— easier said than done, as Thor’s presence has only made him perversely harder. 

What the Hel is he supposed to say to that? More to the point, what does _Thor_ want him to say?

If Loki were on his game, he’d find some smooth way to make it into some hilarious prank. Insist that Stark had promised him a gang bang with Hawkeye and the Hulk and he was just getting warmed up. Claim he was performing the first half of a ritual to summon an army of pixies to raid everyone’s stockings. Hel, even pretend he knew Thor could see him and had just punked him good.

But Loki isn’t doing any of those things, because it turns out that desperately wanting to fuck your brother is a real game-killer.

Thor is still looking at him, expectantly, and Loki clears his throat. 

“Erm.”

“Are you not going to continue?” Thor tilts his head, looking strangely inscrutable. “It seemed you were enjoying yourself.”

Loki gulps. His still half-exposed cock twitches. 

“Go on,” Thor says, leaning an arm against the wall, hand planted right above Loki’s head, and oh, that does not help— in the sense that it very much _does_. “I’ll keep watch for you. You never know who else might have an amulet around these parts.”

Loki is torn between staring at him in despair and never meeting his eyes again, which just results in his gaze darting back and forth in panicked indecision. Until Thor reaches out his other hand and tilts up Loki’s chin, at which point Loki can’t help but stare into him. 

Thor looks… interested.

“Go on,” he says again. “Or do you need me to do it for you?”

Loki bites his lip, letting himself give in, freeing his cock once more and wrapping his hand around it with a shuddering breath. He still doesn’t know what Thor intends, what Thor wants from him, but this— this he’ll take.

It takes him another few seconds to realize he just wasted a prime opportunity to see if Thor would actually give him a handjob. Cursing inwardly, Loki soldiers on. 

Thor looks intently upon his face until Loki uses the excuse of a particularly good squeeze to shut his eyes. When next he opens them, Thor is gazing down at where he’s touching himself, and there is a hunger on his face that Loki trembles to see. 

He gives Thor a good show, spitting on his palm and slicking his cock, mingling it with the precome that beads eagerly at the tip. Moving his hand quick and smooth, but not so fast that he doesn’t linger here and there, teasing his slit with the pad of his thumb, letting his hips get into the action with a slow undulating motion. He senses Thor’s gaze on his face here and there, but Loki doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from his cock. He doesn’t know if he can handle another intense staredown without coming instantly.

Then Thor straightens. Loki’s hand on his cock falters. 

“Enough,” Thor says, and fists his hand in the fabric at Loki’s collar, pulling him forward off the wall. 

“Wagh—“ says Loki, as Thor picks him up by the hips and hefts him over a broad shoulder. Just tosses him up there like he weighs nothing, which along with the general shock and confusion, is so brutally erotic that it leaves him gasping, achingly hard. His breeches are sliding down, leaving him nearly bare-assed, while his dick is suddenly being crushed hard against the cool metal of Thor’s epaulet, which— isn’t actually a bad feeling, either.

“The hall is no place for this, brother,” Thor rumbles, and then Loki realizes he’s being carried, caveman style, into the elevator. Fuck, that shouldn’t be so hot. 

Loki’s not that small or light, really, even in this younger, twinkier body— he’s got shoulders and thighs and ass. And pound for pound, Jotnar are nearly as dense as Asgardians. It’s just that Thor… Thor is _massive_. He has to duck to keep from hitting them on the elevator entrance, and then he’s punching a button and they’re waiting for the door to close.

“Um,” says Loki, trying not to wriggle. Or maybe trying _to_ wriggle. Difficult to say.

“Just like an eel,” Thor says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Though not nearly so challenging to catch, as it turns out.”

And then his hand is coming up to squeeze Loki’s bare ass, spanning his cheek so broadly that his fingers easily slip into the cleft and pull Loki open without even trying, his thumb pressing near the front of Loki’s hip. 

Loki moans loud and shamelessly, staring out the glass elevator at the white flakes whirling past the frosty glass, out over the snow-covered city below, and registering none of it as his mind spins— his cock straining against Thor’s shoulder as he tries to hold the top half of his body somewhat upright, bracing against Thor’s back. (He’d go for an ass grab but Thor’s too damn tall for him to get a good handful.)

“Fuck,” he pants, and then Thor’s purposefully slipping his fingertips down Loki’s most prime of meridians, grazing at his entrance and making him keen. 

The fingers vanish for a moment and Loki almost beats a fist at Thor’s lower back in protest, but then they reappear a moment later, slick with Thor’s spit. A desperate moan rips itself from him as Thor presses on his entrance with intent. He can feel a little dark laugh reverberate through Thor’s torso and it fills him with nervous anticipation.

By the time the elevator opens to Thor’s apartment, he’s worked one finger inside, at least to the second knuckle— which, given the funny angle and the size of his intruding digit, isn’t half bad. Loki is full-bore panting against his back, mind glazed in lust and disbelief. He is not going to question this. He’s just going to take all he can get and consequences be damned, he’ll have his whole life to answer for this.

But Thor doesn’t toss him down right away. No, he just stands in his dark living room in front of the massive windows, holding Loki over his shoulder as he fingers him silly, not a care in the world. Loki’s face is flushing from the blood rushing to his head— whatever blood he has left from his erection, that is, which throbs mightily where it’s crushed against Thor’s armor. 

He’s making all sorts of stupid noises as Thor fucks that thick, blunt finger further into him, and oh. His legs are pressed together and it’s tricky for Thor to penetrate him without any real lube to speak of, but the minor amount of pain is so good, so worth it. 

And Loki is already hungry for more. Being thrown over Thor’s shoulder like this is one of the horniest things that’s ever happened to him— absolutely the best thing thus far in _this_ body— but he’s already desperate for it to go further.

“Please,” he wheezes out, finally. “Thor. I need... I need—“

“What do you know about need, little brother?” Thor asks, not unkindly, still not setting him down. He seems perfectly relaxed, though Loki knows he has to be packing some serious heat in his own breeches at this point. “I thought I was the one with all the appetite.”

Loki makes a strangled growl of frustration, trying to rock his hips back against Thor’s finger. It sort of works. Thor seems to appreciate it, at any rate. Without warning, he pulls his hand back and throws Loki down onto the snow white, dangerously-pristine sofa.

Loki stares up at Thor’s silhouetted form, feeling his face continuing to heat. His legs are all tangled in his breeches and his helm is slightly askew. Loki considers taking it off, then decides nah. It could come in handy.

Thor watches him, saying nothing. They both blink for a moment, as if the last several minutes have just caught up with them.

“Is this where we find out who’s been naughty or nice?” Loki’s voice is finally working again. He sits up on his elbows, feeling his cock drip onto his stomach. Lets his legs fall open. Inviting. 

Thor walks closer and reaches down to Loki’s feet. In silence, divests him of his boots, hidden knives, stockings and breeches in short order, and then settles between his legs, pulling on Loki’s ankles to slide him closer.

“I thought we were going to split the difference,” he finally rumbles, still with laughter in his voice, eyes glancing up to meet Loki’s. Loki just tilts his head back for a second and moans dramatically, wiggling his hips. 

“Stop talking about splitting unless you mean to follow through,” he chastises, fixing Thor with a glare. “I mean it, I will march my naked ass right out of here and go straight back to the party to hit on all your drunken superfriends if you aren’t going to fuck me like I deserve. Just so you know.”

Thor lifts one of Loki’s legs, presses a kiss to the instep of his foot, then to the side of his knee. “How do you deserve it?” He asks, voice low. He’s not laughing.

Loki gulps but his voice doesn’t falter. “The best. And the worst.”

Thor nods, eyes intense in the dim light, then rises, leaving Loki alone on the couch. Loki sits up, cranes his neck to see Thor rummaging in the open-plan kitchen. It’s only a few moments before he’s back with a vial of almond oil, of all things— but hell, Loki’s not going to complain.

He watches Thor slick his fingers and a tremble of excitement shakes him. It doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“My little brother trembles,” Thor muses, setting the bottle on the coffee table. “Does he still find me terrifying?”

“Oh yes,” Loki breathes, running his ankle along the outer perimeter of Thor’s still-clothed thigh. “He’s scared stiff.” It really isn’t a joke. He can see the bulge in Thor’s breeches, enough to make him wish he’d better anticipated this. Fucking Thor surely requires the level of practice and dedication of an Olympic athlete. And a sponsorship from Astralglide. And maybe a stunt coordinator. Where exactly did one find one of those?

Thor wraps his hand around Loki’s dick and he stops thinking about how to word his would-be Craigslist ad and starts solely focusing on how huge Thor’s hand is on him, how hot his touch. Loki’s perfectly respectable, incredibly well-proportioned cock looks like a toy in his massive paw. 

He makes another stupid noise, bucking up into Thor’s hand, and Thor smiles.

“I know my brother cannot remember, but in the past, he and I shared a great many things between us. I had long resigned myself to the notion that such things would live on only in memory. Yet it seems that the spirit of those bygone days still burns within us.”

An uneasy flare of guilt rises in Loki’s gullet, but he stuffs it back down. No, let me have this. _Let me!_

“My brother’s confession is well-timed,” he replies, trying to keep his voice steady even as Thor fondles his balls and his cock all in one palm. “For I have felt a strange longing as of late, and thought myself surely the only one gagging for some incestuous fraternal bonding. Forsooth.”

That earns him an amused grin. Loki sits up a little, scooting his ass closer to Thor, delighting in the slick sounds of Thor’s fist around him. “Kiss me, brother,” he murmurs as he gazes longingly at Thor’s mouth, then hits him with a solid ‘puppy dog eyes and sultry bitten-lip’ combo. Even tilts his head a little. It’s not a joke, but it’s not _not_ a joke.

Thor smirks. “Some things never change.” And then he’s leaning forward to cup Loki round the back of the head and draw their mouths together, and Loki’s clutching at him with everything he’s got, a goddamn spider monkey trying to kiss him and rock into his fist and pull him closer. 

He manages to coax Thor to lay down half on top of him, angled just so. Thor is still pulling him off but now they’re kissing open-mouthed and dirty, which is excellent, and Loki’s whimpering into Thor’s mouth and Thor’s chest is vibrating with a pleased groan as Loki rubs a thigh against his groin.

After some minutes of frotting, Thor pulls away to suck at Loki’s neck, and then he rumbles, “Such a little thing,” while fondling his cock just the way Loki’s always liked it. 

Loki closes his eyes and tries desperately not to come right then and there. 

He fails, crying out as his cock jerks within Thor’s grasp, coating his brother’s knuckles and the bottom of his own tunic.

“Oh…Norns’ tits,” he groans, as Thor milks him through the last of it. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You like hearing how small you are?” Thor asks, teasing at his earlobe with his teeth, and Loki shivers. “Because brother, I must confess, it rouses me like never before to feel you beneath me in this form. I’ll have to be so careful with you.”

Loki wants to argue, because fuck you, he’s not a delicate flower, Thor’s just too big— but those words are igniting his frosty veins like napalm and he can’t keep himself from whimpering like the helpless, swooning thing he most definitely is. 

And then Thor is licking Loki’s come from his fingers and that’s… well, _fuck_.

“Don’t be gentle,” Loki orders— begs?— as he turns, slips from the couch to stand before his brother. Thor sits up, eyebrows raised. 

“I can handle whatever you give me,” Loki insists, crossing his arms to hide that he’s feeling pretty shaky and blissed out from his orgasm. 

“I don’t think you’re ready to see me ungentle,” Thor counters, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his knees so Loki can see him fully hard, tenting his breeches— nothing soft about that. He reaches out for Loki’s wrist, tugs him down to straddle his lap, hands firm on Loki’s arms.

“Do you think you have the strength to ride me, little jockey?” He asks, and Loki almost turns inside out with lust. Apparently his already minimal refractory period is just non-existent with Thor, for he’s already getting hard again and his ass is positively quivering with anticipation. 

“I’ve handled bigger brutes than you,” he lies, just to see Thor’s nostrils flare with possessive lust. “I eat dicks like yours for breakfast.”

Thor rips Loki’s soiled tunic from him (which— hm, annoying, but also fucking _hot_ ) and attacks his neck again with gusto, biting and sucking bruises into his skin until Loki is growling and panting and squealing.

Thor releases him after a minute, and then he’s ripping his own armored breastplate in two (holy mother of _Ymir_ , Loki thinks, yelping in surprise as small decorative pieces of metal pop off and hit him in the tits and stomach) and then he’s tearing open his breeches to take out his cock.

Loki does not blanch. Nor does he make any more stupid noises, even though Thor’s dick could surely span from Loki’s elbow to wrist, nearly as thick as his forearm. Jesus wept. 

Thor doesn’t seem to be in any rush now that he’s semi-naked, so Loki takes a moment to eye his prize. Thor’s cock is darker than his, crossed by veins and well-defined in its fleshy musculature. The cockhead is glorious and well-proportioned, crowned by a glimmering pearl of precome. Next to it, Loki’s dick is pale and almost demure, and though it’s too dim to make out the color properly, he knows it’ll be a Victorian damask rose to Thor’s deep rouge. 

He’s not horrifyingly wet at the sight or anything.

“Are you sure you don’t want gentle?” Thor asks, leaning forward so he can wrap his hand around his and Loki’s cock both. Loki almost genuinely starts crying at the humiliating arousal that surges within him, seeing how Thor dwarfs him— the sheer force of it almost capsizing him entirely. He would swear it was the feeling of his soul leaving his body, although he knows from experience that’s not quite accurate.

“Please,” Loki begs, not knowing up from down anymore. Thor’s already fucked him stupid and they haven’t even fucked.

Thor gives them a few slippery jerks, just enough to make Loki’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and then he’s slicking up his fingers again.

“I think my brother will thank me later, even if he is angered with me now for taking it slow,” Thor says, by way of apology, and then he’s reaching behind Loki, gently pushing two well-oiled fingers past his rim. 

Loki wails. Impatient, he sinks down hard on Thor’s hand, then wails for a different reason. “Oh god, the knuckles, the knuckles!” He hisses, half in pain, half in exhilaration, but doesn’t let up until he’s certain Thor’s fingers are as far inside him as he can get them.

“Hush,” Thor soothes, working gently within him. “I told you, Loki. Patience. You’re going to have to be smarter if you want to earn my cock.”

Loki manages a laugh at that, a little clarity coming back to his senses. “Oh. Oh yes, I can’t be too much of a naughty boy or Santa won’t fill my stocking.”

Thor makes a grimace. “I really wish you wouldn’t speak of Father right now.”

That’s got Loki howling with laughter, tears once more springing to his eyes, and Thor quickly decides to try and shut him up, looming over him as he pounds his fingers into Loki’s ass. Loki chokes and hangs on for the ride, eyes wide, hands roaming over Thor’s magnificent torso. Those gorgeous pecs. His knuckles brush the amulet around Thor’s neck (that Loki will be pocketing later, see if he doesn’t. Although, the possibilities of leaving it with Thor… hmm.) 

Thor quickly tires of this angle, and soon he’s pulling Loki across his lap so he can finger him more vigorously while squeezing his ass, intermittently running a hand up to tug Loki’s hair— then, briefly, his horns, which really gets them revved up.

Loki’s arching his back like a cartoon cat, pressing his ass up against Thor’s mighty fist, crowing in exhilaration at the feel of Thor’s knuckles punching firm against his cheeks, making his flesh jiggle. Thor seems to be unable to leave his ass alone, smacking and kneading the flesh in every which way, groaning under his breath. His dick is pressed against Loki’s hip, a constant reminder of how sore he’s going to be in the morning. 

“Please please please,” Loki finds himself moaning. His own dick is trapped against Thor’s thigh, surely leaving a wet spot on his breeches. “You gotta fuck me, Thor— _please_.’

Thor decides that’s when he’s going to stroke firm over Loki’s prostate with three fingers.

Loki nearly jumps right off the sofa— or would have, if Thor’s hand wasn’t resting hot and heavy on his lower back. “Fuck!” He half shouts, half whimpers, and now that’s really not fair because he’s torn between getting more of this, or getting Thor’s terrifying cock inside him.

“What will it be, brother?” Thor asks, like a real smooth bastard. Loki groans in barely-exaggerated aggravation. 

“Mmmhhhh. Your dick. _Please_ , Thor. Take pity.”

“You’re never this polite,” Thor notes, amusement in his deep voice as he slows his hand and strokes gently over Loki’s prostate instead, which makes him keen. “It’s almost as if you want something from me.”

Loki moans. “I hate you...”

“But?”

“...but I need your cock. Don’t make me steal it.”

Thor laughs, sudden and loud, then rises, scooting Loki off his lap. Loki twists onto his back, looking up at him once more. He swears Thor’s dick has gotten even bigger since he last laid eyes on it.

“How do you want me?” He asks, licking his lips and meeting Thor’s heavy gaze. “You could bend me over the back of the couch. Up against the wall. On your kitchen table…”

Thor just grins.

“Maybe later. I’ve got another idea.”

He pockets the bottle of oil, then reaches in and plucks Loki up like he weighs no more than a throw pillow, holding him so they’re face to face. Loki curls his legs around Thor’s waist, just like in his dance floor fantasy.

“Standing, hm?” He teases, wiggling downward to try and feel Thor’s cock against his ass. Mission successful.

“No, I just know how much you like being carried,” Thor teases, and he’s not wrong. Loki clings to him as he stalks from the living room toward the bedroom. So old fashioned, his brother. His strides cover so much ground— no sooner has Loki pulled him into a filthy kiss than he’s being tossed down on the bed. 

“Get in the center, on your forearms and knees, legs apart. Crouching,” Thor directs, and Loki watches for a moment as he sets the oil on the bed before peeling down his ruined, ripped breeches, his muscular thighs and ass finally coming into view. Loki’s pretty certain some of those muscles were invented just for Thor. He feels his mouth watering...

Then his brain catches up with Thor’s instructions. 

“Crouching? You mean, like this?” Loki feels a strange thrill in his stomach as he adopts the position. He feels like a vulnerable little creature, easy prey for anything that might come up behind him.

“Mm, yes, just widen your legs, brother.”

Thor’s heat closes in on him, thick thighs nudging his own apart, until Loki’s cock and balls hang heavy and full between them. He’s got his weight low on his forearms, palms down, and if he tilts forward just so, it brings his ass a little higher in the air. He’s spread wide open, thrills to think of Thor’s gaze on him.

Thor makes a noise of approval, dragging the top several inches of his cock over Loki’s center. Teasing his entrance. Loki shivers, trying to rock his hips back, but it’s hard in this position with his legs folded and spread. Thor just plays with him, dripping oil down Loki’s center, coating his dick so it slides cool and slick, quickly warming on his skin.

Loki’s going out of his mind trying to resist the urge to touch himself. He wants this to last. He wants to come on Thor’s dick. But to do that, Thor needs to fuck him already.

“I’m going to tell everyone you couldn’t get it up,” he threatens. “Softest Asgardian in the game.”

“See that you do,” Thor says, loftily, as he rubs his cockhead right up against Loki’s rim and ah, bastard, come _on_. 

“Please,” Loki whines, genuinely frustrated now, which makes him feel justified in being a bit of a brat. “I need it, I need it, I need it so bad, Thor.”

He hears a satisfied humph, and then Thor’s lining up and oh fuck, he’s not ready, not ready, fuck fuck fuck.

Loki gasps, tears springing to his eyes as he’s breached by Thor’s cockhead, bringing him to his absolute limits. He moans pitifully as Thor continues his slow push, and then oh gods, the widest part is in, and then it’s a little easier— but it doesn’t end, it doesn’t fucking end, filling him up so full, just casually rearranging his guts and ohh it gets thicker at the base, oh _Norns_ how could he forget that.

Finally, what seems like a lifetime later, Thor’s pulling Loki’s hips back and down onto him. He’s all but seated in Thor’s lap, stuffed to the very brim with his brother’s hot, throbbing cock. 

“Do you believe me now?” Thor asks, not unkindly. He runs gentling hands over Loki’s flank, as if soothing a skittish steed. “It is not something to be taken lightly.”

Loki lets out a whimper, carried by a trembling exhale. He feels a tear run down his cheek. “I love it,” he all but whispers, a tinge of high-pitched hysteria around the edges. “Fucking Hel, you’re so big. Norns, you fill me so damn good. We should have done this months ago. Aeons ago.” And now he’s full bore rambling. “We never should’ve stopped, why did we stop. You should always be inside me.”

Thor makes a pleased rumble in his chest, and then he’s curling his body over Loki’s to cage him within his arms, placing his hands near Loki’s own. His knees settle to the outside of Loki’s, his shins pinning Loki’s calves. This only serves to make his cock shift deeper, and his weight sinks down to press Loki into the bed— though he’s clearly holding back from actually crushing him.

Loki shudders at the sensation of being surrounded by his brother, barred in by his massive bulk, and then Thor’s nosing at his ear, murmuring into his hair.

“Are you ready for me, my little toy?” And then he moves his head higher up, and Loki’s confused until he realizes from the sound and the slight pressure against his temple that Thor is licking one of his _horns_.

“Oh fuck,” Loki moans, panting open mouthed as he tightens around Thor—which is maybe a mistake. Thor pulls off his horn with a soft ‘pop’ and Loki’s cock jerks, fresh slick dripping from his tip. He hears Thor chuckle as he brings his face back down next to Loki’s, slowly beginning to move his hips. Loki can’t help another long wail as everything seems to burn in the most intoxicating, overwhelming way.

“Thor,” he all but weeps, feeling that monstrous cock dragging along his insides. Thor isn’t even going fast, not even working the angles— just slowly starting to coax him looser. Loki isn’t sure that any amount of delicacy could make this less intense. And he’s _fine_ with that, really.

“Such a pretty, dirty little thing,” Thor’s saying, mouthing at the edge of Loki’s neck where it meets his shoulder. He bites the taut tendon there and Loki bites down on his own lip, mirroring him. “You’re the tightest little sheath.”

Loki whimpers again, unable to do anything but lay beneath him and take it as Thor begins to rock his hips into the motion, starting to move a little faster, pull out a little further before sliding back home. “Nghh… yes. Mmmhh. Thor, _fuck_ , yes.”

“Such a mouth on you,” Thor chides in mock disapproval. “I bet it would look good stretched around my cock. I’ll bet you can barely get your lips around it.” 

Loki finds himself blushing, to his horror. Thor is far more of a dirty talker than he’d realized. Time on Earth has clearly done the boy good. And oh, it’s such a good image— thinking of trying to choke down Thor’s thick girth.

“Bet I’d look real cute with my mouth stuffed full of your cock,” he moans, pushing back against Thor as much as he can. “All down my throat. Bet you’d love it.”

He’s almost certain the old Loki wouldn’t have liked being called small. Being trapped under Thor like this. That had to be a new thing. _Their_ thing.

Thor gives a lusty laugh, hot in his ear. 

“Mm, I can just picture it. Pretty little tears running down your cheeks.” He fucks into Loki harder, punching a gasp from him; and then he does it again, until a litany of ‘ah!’ and ‘oh!’ and ‘ngh!’ are echoing each thrust. 

“I’ve often imagined smearing that color you wear all over your lips,” Thor adds, conversationally, not winded in the slightest. “First with my mouth, and then with my cock.”

Loki suddenly regrets that he isn’t wearing any lipstick today because hot _damn_ , Thor. They are definitely going to have to do this more often. There’s just so many things Loki wants to do to him… 

“Maybe… maybe I can fuck you sometime,” Loki gasps, tilting his hips up, encouraging Thor to give him more. “I’ve gotten nothing but… ah! Rave reviews so far.”

One of Thor’s hands moves, curls beneath him to fondle Loki’s cock— which isn’t soft, but it’s not fully hard either. Getting fucked in the ass like a champ diverts a lot of attention, though under Thor’s touch, Loki feels himself thickening once more.

“Mm,” he moans. “Oh god, you’re gonna make me come ‘f you keep that up.” His voice breaks on the last word and his breath hitches.

“You’re not going to fuck me, Loki,” Thor growls in his ear, working him good and firm. “With this sweet, dainty thing? No.” He releases Loki’s dick in favor of pressing a hand flat to Loki’s abdomen, clearly feeling his own cock bulging there with each thrust. Loki wails but Thor just nuzzles into his hair as he plows him strong and steady.

“You can mount your other soft, little friends,” he murmurs into Loki’s ear, deceptively gentle, still barely even out of breath. “You can rut against them like a puppy at play all you like. But when you’re with me… my cock belongs right here, deep inside your tight little body, doesn’t it?” He rolls his hips hard and groans as Loki writhes. 

“You make a— nghhh, a compelling point,” Loki admits, desperately. 

Thor hums in approval, biting Loki’s shoulder for a moment before giving a dark little laugh against his surely-bruised skin. “So delicate but so resilient. I know you can take whatever I give you. My sweet little toy.”

Loki’s halfway to a swoon. Norns, but it turns him on, the filthy pervert that he is, to hear Thor say those things. To think how easily Thor could force him— could break him. And it’s clearly turning Thor on too, so he ramps it up, plays along with the game.

“I’m sorry, brother,” he gasps, clenching down on Thor as much as he can. “You’re right. You’re right. I could—ah!— I could never give you what you need. Fuck, you’re so— you’re so—“

“Tell me,” Thor demands. “Tell me how it feels.”

Loki whimpers, wanting to come so badly it’s a physical ache. 

“Feels like you’re… you’re all around me. So big, like I couldn’t get away if I tried. Mmm—like I’m at your mercy. Gods, I can barely think, you’re stuffing me so full.” His words are slurring together slightly, drunk on the feeling of Thor’s cock grazing his prostate with each pass, the warm pleasure building. “Please let me come, I can’t—“

“Did you like it earlier, when I carried you and threw you down like a doll?” Thor’s voice is roughened with desire and the sound of it is going straight to Loki’s very eager, desperate dick. “When I had my way with you over my shoulder?”

Loki squeezes his eyes shut and he can’t control himself, he’s writhing again under Thor’s weight, being knocked forward with each thrust, and oh god, he’s so close, he’s so close, and Thor’s rumbling, “I love the feel of you squirming beneath me. So small, so helpless.”

“Yes,” Loki moans. “Ohh, so close, ‘m so close, Thor.”

But then Thor’s suddenly shifting back, pulling completely out of him and Loki almost shrieks in shock. 

“Agh, don’t stop!” He whips his head around to see to his dismay that Thor’s backing up on the bed. “What are you doing?!’ He’s throbbing, aching to come, so horribly empty inside— and Thor’s just grinning at him like a complete evil bastard.

“Fret not, brother,” Thor says lightly, smacking Loki on the ass before he stands, looking around for a moment before deciding to walk over to the loveseat near the window. Loki’s getting a sense of deja vu.

“You know, if you wanted to fuck on a couch, we could have just stayed in the living room,” he protests, unable to keep from planting his face down into the blankets in a full on strop. “I hate you.” 

He hears movement. Curiosity overcomes his need for dramatics, and so, begrudgingly, Loki looks over.

Thor has settled on the loveseat, knees wide. His body looks fucking ridiculous, each sculpted muscle gleaming in the low light, those hard nipples and cock a trifecta of deliciousness. For all his aggravation, there’s no doubt Loki wants to climb him like the Sir Edmund Hillary of brother-fucking. 

“Are you going to sit there all night?” Thor asks, somehow coming off both demanding and nonchalant. Loki’s cock twitches. Traitor.

He slowly unfolds himself from his crouched position, wincing at the sudden burn in his hips. He’s gonna be feeling that later for sure. Eyes on Thor, Loki flips onto his back with as much grace as he can muster, biting his lip and flinging one arm above his head, using the other hand to giving his cock a stroke or two, pushing his hips up into it. Two can play this game.

“Loki…” 

It’s a warning now. Loki wants to push Thor a little further, just to play with fire, but the greater part of him wants to see what Thor has planned for them now.

Loki sits up reluctantly, being a real brat about it—because he can, and it’s fun. “I _suppose_ you want me to come sit on your cock?” He drawls.

Thor grins, dark and wolfish. “Ten points to Slytherin.”

Loki huffs, rolling his eyes as he gets off the bed and saunters over. “I should never have let you watch those,” he mutters, coming to stand between Thor’s spread knees, hands on his hips. “Alright, Hufflepuff, how do you want me?”

Thor seems pleased by his attempt at an insult. “Turn around. I want your back to me.”

Loki’s eyebrows raise a notch. Oh. That could be… quite nice actually. He’s already picturing it and— oh yes. He obeys, annoyance all but forgotten as those huge hands lift and guide him until he’s got a foot planted on either side of Thor’s thighs, bracing his palms just above Thor’s knees. And then Thor’s cupping his ass, taking Loki’s weight as he lowers him onto his cock.

It’s just as fucking massive as before and Loki whimpers as he’s breached yet again, unable to control the descent at this angle, completely at Thor’s mercy as his brother lowers him down inch by inch, then thrusts up to meet him at the end. 

Loki groans hard, like he’s had all the air punched out of him (which maybe, he has) and Thor coaxes him back to rest against that stupid, gorgeous muscled chest, then splays open Loki’s legs. Loki just lays there, panting like a shipwrecked sailor just washed ashore. Thor gives a pleased rumble of a laugh, then moves his hands to hold the underside of Loki’s thighs right where they meet his ass, keeping him spread open.

“Tell me if it’s not enough,” he murmurs, nose against Loki’s ear, and then he lifts Loki, letting him drop down as his hips rise up. There is a thick, satisfying impact.

Loki loses his mind instantly, a harsh cry ripping from his throat. He can barely remember to breathe, just hanging on for dear life as Thor expertly handles him, lifting him up and down in time with his thrusts. As before, he moves as if Loki’s weight is nothing to him, tucking his head down next to Loki’s so he can watch a bit of the action.

Loki can hardly tell up from down; all he knows is the sweat-sticky, solid chest at his back, Thor’s humid breath against his neck and that glorious cock sending hot shards of pleasure down his spine and thighs, already pushing him towards the edge. And all the while, Thor manhandling him with such capable force, such raw power, Loki’s soon keening at the thought alone. 

“Mmm, you sweet little thing,” Thor’s grunting into his ear, voice husky and possessive. “Just relax, I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere.”

Loki groans long and low, melting back against Thor, pliant as a kitten. He puts one hand on his cock just to keep it from bouncing too vigorously, but part of him wants to see if he can come on Thor’s dick alone. “Keep talking,” he urges. Thor already knows his weakness, may as well indulge to the fullest.

“What do you want to hear, brother?” Thor asks, finally starting to sound just a little breathless. “That I love how easy it is to pick you up and have my way with you? That I love how greedy your beautiful little body is for me?”

“More, I need more,” Loki whimpers, feeling Thor light up his nerves as he hits him at nearly the right angle— so close, so close, he doesn’t want it to end.

“You want to hear how much I like it that I can fit your wrists in one hand? That I can span the side of your tight little ass with my palm?” Thor bites him again, near the base of his neck, holds him down and grinds his dick up into him, and Loki shudders and whines, almost loses it then and there, but Thor isn’t hitting him where he needs it yet, and now he’s starting to realize it might be on purpose. 

“Please,” he begs, though he doesn’t know what for, and he feels tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He’s going out of his mind with pleasure, so desperate for release he could scream. “Please, Thor—“

“Mm, brother.” Thor resumes his upward thrusts, making Loki ride him once more. The fleshy sound of their bodies rutting together is utterly glorious. “It would be so easy to force myself upon you,” he groans. “If I were an evil man, I’d take you just how I had you on the bed, spread and pinned beneath me. No choice but to receive my cock. You’d cry out and tell me it was too big, that it would hurt you— you’d beg me to stop, but if I were an evil man, I wouldn’t care.”

Loki stiffens, a cry caught in his throat. Thor is still denying him, not hitting him straight on, and combined with the sheer filth tumbling from his brothers lips, it’s driving Loki to madness.

“I’d make you take it all,” Thor rumbles, giving him an especially powerful hip roll. “I’d stuff you with every last inch until you cried sweet, pretty tears and screamed for me to stop.”

Loki’s breath hitches, a moan spilling from his lips. 

Thor just laughs, low and dark. “Oh yes, little brother. I can see it now; how betrayed, how terrified you’d be, so small and delicate under my hands. And then I’d fuck you so well, you’d beg for me to keep going. My dirty little cockslut.”

Because Thor is actually something of an evil bastard, he chooses that moment to thrust his cock right up against Loki’s most sensitive, throbbing, aching spot, and it’s all over— Loki arching back against him and wailing to wake the dead as he comes hard, _so_ unbelievably hard, all over his hand and stomach and chest, clenching around Thor and clinging to him, flinging a desperate arm back around Thor’s neck and fisting it in his hair.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries, probably nearly taking Thor’s eye out with a horn as he throws his head back, unable to believe how much he’s coming, his cock still not finished and then Thor’s growling like a beast, like the virile god of thunder and fertility that he is, and he’s slamming up hard into Loki for a few moments longer until he stiffens and comes with something that can only be described as a roar. Loki feels his cock juddering and tightens around him, Thor’s vocalizations turning to a long, deep moan as he fills Loki with his spend, rolls his hips up into him to push it deeper with each throbbing spurt.

Finally, the spasms seem to ebb away and Thor relaxes, letting Loki rest in his lap, still stuffed to the brim with cock and semen. They’re both boneless and filled with that strange mixture of warmth and emptiness that comes after a particularly intense orgasm. Thoroughly wrung out and spent.

Loki relaxes back against Thor’s chest, lazily pulling his diadem from his head and chucking it to the floor so he can better nuzzle under Thor’s chin. 

“Mmmm,” he murmurs, too sex-wrecked for enunciation. “Yer a very bad man.”

Thor just makes an unintelligible noise in reply, wrapping his huge arms around Loki’s waist, heedless of the puddle of Loki’s come that greets him. 

“Wha?" Loki scrunches his forehead in confusion. "That sounded like a dying swan.”

“Said, so ’re you,” Thor answers. “Mmm. My very sweet, very bad little brother.” Loki all but melts when Thor noses soft and dozy into his hair, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of his head. “Not too much, was it? You seemed to approve, but next time we can have a signal for if you stop enjoying yourself...”

Loki nods against him, just wanting to be held, and feeling so pleased and warm and tight in his chest that he didn’t even have to ask. “Mm. No, I loved it. Norns, I loved all of it. N’ here I thought I was the filthy one,” he giggles, breathless as an aftershock ripples through him, making him tremble. “You’re a real dark horse sometimes, you know.”

Thor chuckles. “I didn’t mean it, either— what I said about you not taking me,” he assures Loki, still nuzzling against him. “It was just games. I would enjoy that very much, if you wanted.”

Loki giggles at his concern, feeling unbearably full of fuzzy, loved-up feelings. “Alright, but I’ll warn you, I wanna have you up inside me all day, every day for at least a few months first.”

Thor hums in enthusiastic approval. “Mmm… it’s going to be difficult to keep my hands off you now. You’re going to make my life even more of a living Hel.”

Loki just laughs, pleased at the notion of tormenting his brother. He turns, angling his head up for a kiss. Thor obliges him and he sighs softly into it. They’re going to have to pull apart in a moment and clean up, and hopefully there will be more cuddles on the bed, but for now? He’ll take this.

“Only the worst for my brother,” he murmurs against Thor’s soft, warm lips, before sliding his tongue lazily against Thor’s. 

Those massive arms tighten around him in response, and after a few moments more, Thor pulls back— just enough to meet his eyes. “Yes,” he rumbles, gaze full of possessive warmth. “And only the best for mine.”

“Mm.” Loki attempts to snuggles closer to him, even though there’s nowhere else to go. “Happy Jól, Thor. That was truly a gift only a brother could give.”

Thor tilts his chin back up. “Happy Jól, you little fiend,” he replies fondly, giving Loki a rather unchaste kiss with plenty of tongue that soon has fresh warmth pooling in his groin and, glory hallelujah, Thor’s cock thickening inside of him once again.

Yes, Loki decides, as Thor grips him tight and starts to rock his hips; holiday parties are _very_ much his thing.

 

xx

**Author's Note:**

> Song title and opening quote from “Let’s Dance” by David Bowie. 
> 
> Jól is the Old Norse word connected with pagan midwinter feasting (which later developed into Yuletide.) And Odin is attested as the Jólfaðr, or Jól-father, so pretty much he's Santa Claus.
> 
> 1854 is the birth year of Oscar Wilde and coincidentally the vintage of Thor’s special aged mead. A very horny reserve indeed. 
> 
> Sir Edmund Hillary was one of the first people, along with Tenzing Norgay, to summit Mt. Everest. 
> 
> Thor’s obsession with Norwegian synth pop/New Wave band a-ha is due to Lee Garbett drawing him wearing the band’s shirt in AOA— which I like to imagine is a gift from Loki. There’s no way Thor wearing that shirt is a coincidence. If you've never seen the video for Take On Me, well... https://youtu.be/djV11Xbc914
> 
>    
> Thank you again to D1ona30 for such delectable prompts (I swear, the stars aligned when you were assigned to me.) I hope this didn’t disappoint, and I wish you very happy holidays! ;)
> 
> Happy Jól, everyone!  
> xx


End file.
